


A Head Case

by Incessant_Darkness



Series: The Rules of the Game [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Police AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incessant_Darkness/pseuds/Incessant_Darkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima is a psychologist in the employ of the police department; Kuroo is a cop with a reputation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Head Case

When Kenma returns eyes downcast and fingers interlaced with one another in a tight vice it immediately catches Kuroo’s attention in spite of the fact that he’s on the other side of the bull pen. The furtive moment of eye contact from Kenma disturbs him, so much so that he thinks nothing of dropping his conversation with the deputy director without even a word of excuse and makes his way over to where his partner is waiting.

“Come on, out with it.” Kuroo prompts. After so many years as friends, Kuroo hardly ever is anything but straightforward with him but the tactic backfires and Kenma spares him only half a glance before shaking his head.

“It’s nothing.” Kenma’s hand drifts to the handcuffs that are tucked into his belt, fingering them thoughtfully. “He’s just _strange_.” And the way Kenma says it is full of dissatisfaction that the word he chose to describe his agency-assigned psychologist does not encompass the dimension of his feelings on the subject. “And I haven’t been cleared to return to duty.”

A pang of something dark and guilty curls through Kuroo’s chest at that revelation but Kenma intercepts his unvoiced apology before he can bring himself to speak it.

“It’s not a big deal.” Before Kuroo can protest Kenma strides past him, taking his leave and Kuroo knows better than to chase after.

*

Kuroo has his thumbs hooked through his belt and is staring in contemplation of the matte black door fixed with a burnished gold nameplate, letting the characters roll around on his tongue when unexpectedly, it swings inward.

“Can I help you?” It is obvious from a glance that the greeting, while polite, is disingenuous to the marrow, and so Kuroo is not at all repentant for the shit-eating grin that automatically dominates his own expression.

“Tsukishima?”

“ _Doctor_.” The enunciation is deliberately jarring, as if Tsukishima feels he’s addressing someone who is particularly dense and Kuroo is careful not to let that, or the patronizing once over he is receiving faze him. Instead he returns to the question that was not so much a question which Tsukishima had greeted him with.

“No I don’t think you can.”

“Excuse me?” Tsukishima frowns and Kuroo is glad to see that he’s off balance. It settles him, lets the tension fall from his shoulders—he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it there but his instinctive response to Tsukishima is clear enough, the good doctor is someone to be wary of.

“What I mean is,” And this time it’s Kuroo’s turn to be speaking with a decadent drawl, “I don’t think you can help me, and you most certainly can’t help Kenma, so if you’d be so kind as to sign on the dotted line, we can all just get back to our regularly scheduled lives.”

Kuroo is prepared to handle reprimand, reproach and all manner of misbegotten authoritative disapproval. What he is not prepared for is the smile that spreads across Tsukishima’s face, that overwrites his expression, his body language and even the keen look in his eyes which disappears behind closed lids.

It’s plebeian playing at passive. And on Tsukishima it looks terrifyingly _wrong._

Inadvertently Kuroo gives ground, taking a step back before catching himself and squaring his shoulders.

“Is that all?”

“What?”

“I had heard so much about the clever cat of precinct four, but it turns out you’re a rather simple man after all. How disappointing.” Tsukishima’s hand touches the doorknob, the wraithlike smile never slipping from his lips. “If that’s all.” The way Tsukishima says it makes it obvious that he isn’t the least bit interested in anything else Kuroo might have to say; the dismissal alone is infuriating.

The toe of Kuroo shoe only just manages to keep the door wedged open but when he pushes it wide again he sees that Tsukishima’s long legs have carried him most of the way back to his desk. Kuroo steps in and shuts the door behind himself pointedly but Tsukishima finishes circling around and only turns his attention on Kuroo when he is seated behind his desk.

Before Kuroo can speak though Tsukishima is reaching into his desk and pulling out a folder. When it lands on the varnished wooden surface of the desk, even upside down Kuroo is able to read Kenma’s name written in a neat and cramped hand.

 

“You want me to sign off on his clearance to return is that all?” Tsukishima isn’t really making a show of talking to him, Kuroo realizes, but rather is talking in the general vicinity of his direction. “Well I suppose that isn’t really a problem.” A pen finds its way into Tsukishima’s hand, and he touches it to the paper. “Seeing as he wasn’t the one who shot and killed the suspect.” Tsukishima’s signature is neat and without flourish, uninspired but efficient and Kuroo is more distracted by it than he has any right to be. “That honor would belong to you, would it not?”

A cold sliver of ice drills through Kuroo’s spine, making his heart thrash erratically against the underside of his ribs and the top of his head go numb. The moment it takes to gather his wits feels like a telling eternity even though he knows it’s hardly more than a second. At once two thoughts resolve in his mind. One, Kenma would not have told a louse like Tsukishima the truth. Two, he needs to lie his ass off. Thank fully, he has absolute faith in his ability to do the second and almost absolute faith that the first holds true.

A laugh bursts forth and Kuroo follows it up with feigned surprise. “You’re funny. I hadn’t expected that—“

“Two black marks on your record, a third shooting would not have gone down well. Is that why you asked your partner to take the fall?” The supremely unconcerned air around Tsukishima irritates Kuroo, but he knows it’s meant to get under his skin. He resists responding in anger and buffs his bravado, touching the fingertips of one hand to the surface of Tsukishima’s desk as he leans across it.

“Listen. Concerning what you do and don’t know, Kenma isn’t the sort to go running his mouth, so perhaps it’s better for your career if you didn’t go making outlandish accusations based on prejudice, don’t you think _Doctor_?”

“Should I consider that a threat?” Tsukishima rising to his feet is more imposing than Kuroo had expected it to be; he straightens up with a cautious tilt of his head to find that Tsukishima still looms over him. “Because that sort of tactic is wasted on me.”

Kuroo has the distinct impression that he has miss-stepped though he isn’t certain if his bluff is the mistake or having come to Tsukishima’s office in the first place. Before he can decide Tsukishima speaks.

“It’s a shame really.” Tsukishima takes off his glasses, and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, rubbing at the lenses with a pretention that is galling, but his gaze remains fixed on Kuroo all the same, unnecessarily sharp as if waiting for him to slip. “As far as I can tell you had no choice but to take the shot. Anyone else would be lauded as a hero.”

Wrong-footed, Kuroo pulls back and wears his irritation plain on his face for the first time. “You lured me here by refusing Kenma clearance.” He concludes, more than a little bothered that Tsukishima has beaten him at his own game of provocation without his noticing until it was too late.

What’s worse is that it’s plain now that Tsukishima is enjoying toying with him far too much.

“Tch. Just report me then, or is it that you want to blackmail me? Do you have a favour to ask of me, good _doctor_?” The snide drawl in his voice doesn’t exactly make Kuroo feel any better about his situation but he doesn’t have the patience for self-preservation any longer.

When Tsukishima waves his hand dismissively Kuroo is both confused and surprised.

“I don’t have any such Machiavellian intentions. As I said it was a good shot, it’s all the same to me whether you shot him or your partner. In fact it makes my job easier that I don’t have to council Kenma through the appropriate coping mechanisms.” Tsukishima slips past Kuroo who ignores the fact that the sharp edge of tension that occupies the space between their proximity makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. And he isn’t certain it’s a _bad_ thing. “You’re not my responsibility.”

“It could be argued that it’s your responsibility to report your suspicions to the proper authorities.” Kuroo hates himself sometimes for having the insatiable need to play devil’s advocate even at his own expense.

It’s worth it for the fact that Tsukishima’s façade breaks for the first time and he regards Kuroo as if he’s said something interesting at last. “It could. I don’t see why you would make that argument.”

Kuroo let’s himself be led to the door by the flow of Tsukishima’s words and actions both. The terror of having his truth revealed has subsided, and he’s fairly certain—though he isn’t sure why—that Tsukishima will not report him. The knowledge loosens his spine and brings an easy grin back to his lips.

“If I thought you were a danger to society it would be a different case. As it is I have no interest in going through the hassle of revealing your little trick.” There is something about the way Tsukishima says it that suggests he’s earned the man’s respect though Kuroo for the life of him can’t figure out what that might be. “But I’m not the only one capable of figuring it out. If you want to get away with murder, use a different trick next time.” The sardonic lilt to the words is meant to hide the true intent, Kuroo knows. A friendly warning. He doesn’t know what he’s done to earn it, only that he walked into Tsukishima’s office with his heart set to hate him and he can’t help but walk out feeling strangely indebted. He thinks perhaps that’s what Tsukishima wanted in the first place, but the way those eyes pass over him, clinical and without any feigned kindness makes him think that’s too simplistic a reason for someone of Tsukishima’s caliber.

“How about we talk murder and cover-ups over coffee?” Kuroo is surprised to find he’s only half-kidding, what he is not surprised by however, is the door swinging shut in his face in answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a follow-up at some point, for now this is a one-shot though.


End file.
